Fable 2: Stranger in a Tower
by Tigerdust
Summary: The second bedtime story from Gus to his eldest daughter Rachel. Mainly features a Ben and Michael pairing set against different fairy tales retold by myself. I don't own QaF US characters, just borrowing as a birthday present for foreverbm.


There were once two brothers who rode the countryside on matching steeds of grey and black. These brothers loved to play games of tag and polo on their horses, laughing heartily while doing so. The black steed was often winner of such challenges, but the grey steed was never far behind or lacking in a spirit of mischief.

These two brothers were named Brian and Michael. Brian rode the black steed, whose snort produced a mighty fog. He was an impatient horse but never frightened easily. Michael rode the grey steed. He was a trickster, always able to get just one more sugar cube from the stable boy before laying at night in his soft bed of fresh hay.

Life was good for the brothers, princes of the land of Sylvania. The land had great peace and wealth, which afforded the brothers lots of time for riding. They often rode with so much mirth that they forgot about the villagers or travelers on the roads around town or in the nearby forest. Michael was a master of jumping ravines and Brian's horse was easily the best at weaving through small clumps of trees. No matter who the victor, the games of the princely brothers were always friendly.

One night, a thunderstorm swept through the forest where Brian and Michael frolicked. Brian looked up at the sky and his black stallion gave a tremendous snort. "What ho, brother! Perhaps it is time to head for home!"

Michael shook his head, the grey steed following suit as he laughed. "Are you afraid of a little thunder?"

Brian sat tall in his saddle. "Knave! No one accuses the good knight Kinney of cowardice!"

"Then give chase!" Michael replied with a wink in his voice as his steed disappeared deeper into the forest, leaving his voice to echo behind.

Brian followed cheerfully, but weary of the storm. As darkness closed in, he began to call for Michael, his horse's head swiveling about and listening for the unique whinny of its foremost companion. There was no response, but the night was too deep. As much as Brian searched, there was no sight or sound from Michael or his stallion. Reluctantly, deep sheets of rain and lightning began to sear the sky and Brian headed back towards the castle. He was determined to find his brother the instant morning rose to its beginning height.

The truth was that the night had done its damage to Michael. His steed had tripped jumping over a ravine in the dark and this was a rare occasion where a startled Michael had fallen from his horse. In the darkened confusion of the storm, Michael had stumbled into a part of the forest he had never seen before. Finding shelter and a bit of blackberry to eat, the younger prince had fallen into a slumber where he lay.

It was the cold morning dew that awoke him. Bright, sharp beams of early sun shot through the mist of the forest. Michael groaned as his back creaked and popped, stiff from a night on the forest floor. He noticed that the rain during the night had washed away the blackberry stains from his hands. His clothes were also slightly damp and clung to his compact body. Michael did not shiver because of the warmth of the sun, but he looked cold enough.

It was almost an instant later that Michael realized he was deeper in a part of the forest than he knew. His first reaction was to be startled, but the sun was too dazzling in the shades of the trees and the birds were too cheerful. Inquisitively, Michael reached behind him, feeling the substance behind his back. Whatever he had leaned against was not the bark of a tree. He turned, his eyes moving upwards.

Michael had found rest and shade beneath a tall tower during the night. He scanned his memories, unable to place the odd tower in the midst of the forest. The stones were treated well and well reinforced, but they had suffered slight aging at the hands of the thickets. Michael began to stretch his legs, finding a large wooden doorway with a padlock. The padlock was secure and far from rusty, only driving Michael's curiosity all the more.

It was hard to see all the way to the top of the tower, but Michael could make out a black form that looked like a window near the roof. "Hello up there?"

A face peered down from the window. It was almost a small dot, but Michael could make out the features of a man. "You're earlier than normal Petrie."

"My name is not Petrie!" Michael yelled back. "Could you let me in? I lost my way last night in a storm and I'm soaked."

The head from the window popped back in hastily without a response. Michael waited a few moments and then tried again. "You still up there? I'm pretty sure you are because there's really nowhere for you to go!"

The voice appeared again, cracking a bit. "Go home! I'm very ill and there's no way up here without a key anyways!"

"Well, that's silly!" Michael responded, also thinking_ that if you are sick then maybe a hospital is a better place to be_. "You know, we could try and talk to each other like normal folk and not yell loud enough to wake the owls!"

The head popped down again from the window. "Maybe you're normal folk, but I'm certainly not!"

Michael shook his head, far too intrigued now for his own good. "I'm coming up!"

The figure shook his head. "Go away!"

"Okay, then! You've left me no choice!"

The man in the tower cringed as he heard the sounds of Michael ramming his own body up against the giant wooden door and hearing the hinges creak and groan until there was an explosion of force and a part of the door was knocked into the staircase.

_This better be worth it_, Michael mumbled to himself as he climbed the somewhat dusty stairs. They were somewhat worn with use as well. Whomever this Petrie was, they had been visiting the stranger in the tower for quite some time. Michael heard soft strains of singing as he began to climb the twisted staircase, having to stop once from feeling so winded and enduring the storm last night. The wooden door at the top opened easily, swinging shut as he stepped through.

The stranger in the window was there, doing his best to ignore the sweating, exhausted form of Michael observing him. He was stroking a canvas with a variety of paints, a bowl of fruit catching sun and shadow from not far away. The Victrola records from Carmen played in the background of a corner somewhere, grooves slightly noticeable from over play.

"Will you at least tell me your name before you ignore me completely?"

The stranger shook his head, concentrating hard on the brush strokes of the light green pear. "You should go home and forget you've ever seen me."

Michael took off his cape and let it slide into a nearby chair next to a round wooden dining table. A mug sat on the table, still warm. "Forget? How could I forget a sick man locked in a tower in the middle of my parent's forest?"

The stranger finally looked at Michael, blinking and with a slight bit of contempt in his voice. "Your parents forest? Your parents own the land, but not the trees nor the birds in the flight. They don't own the revival of the sunrise or the deep sacred stars blinking in the night. They own scraps and paper and mined gold. That is all they own."

Michael was stunned. No one had spoken to him with such frankness in years. It moved him that this sick stranger would feel such strength of character and candor. But this was all kept inside. "Fine. Whatever. The forest. How am I supposed to forget what I've seen?"

"Very easily." His response was flat, almost rehearsed. "It's easier to forget the dead."

Michael walked toward the man, who was as handsome a man as he'd ever seen. He trembled when Michael reached out for his hand, not able to jerk away in Michael's grasp. Michael looked at him with confident eyes, the stranger unable to turn away. "But you aren't dead. Not yet at least. And among the living you have a name. Will you not tell me?"

"Benjamin." He sighed as though it had been years since he'd had a reason to say it.

"Benjamin?"

Ben stammered a bit, finally able to remove Michael's grasp from his wrist. "My...friends call me Ben."

Michael nodded. "Ben it is. But what friends can you have in the tower?"

Ben gave a half-hearted smile, setting down the brush and walking towards the large window cut from stone. "The sunrise, adventurous birds and comical squirrels. Occasionally, a wild dog looking for companionship or fresh water. But those are harder to come by since I'm so far from the ground."

"How long have you been up here?" Michael inquired from behind Ben.

"Long enough to know that you being here breaks all of his rules."

"That seems odd to me, Ben."

Ben shook his head. "I'm very ill."

"Who is your doctor then?"

Ben suddenly turned madly, eyes wide. "You have to hide. He's coming!"

Michael raised his hands with a questioning gesture. "Who's coming? Where am I gonna hide? We're in a tower."

Ben began to breathe heavily. "I have to think of something for the door. Maybe under the bed? Or perhaps the wardrobe. No, he might have bought me a new summer coat."

"Hello! What is he going to do? He's already stranded you in a tower."

Ben shook his head, those sad eyes melting Michael's resolve that he not hide. "Just please, under the bed."

Michael nodded. "Fine. But you owe me and I hope you've dusted."

Petrie began his ascent to the top of the tower, his face a shade of beet red. He barked at Ben, who had gone back to his painting after shoving Michael's cloak in the wardrobe. "Benjamin! What happened to my door? And don't lie to me."

Ben stammered, his face pale. "There was a man, a stranger, who became stranded in the night. He tried to break in but was scared away by one of those wild dogs. He doesn't know I'm here."

Petrie continued, still suspicious as he laid his packages on the table. "Why are you so pale and sweating so much? Did I not leave enough medicine?"

Ben shook his head. "No, I've just been up painting nearly an hour. You know how strenuous an activity that is for me."

"Ah yes! I'm delighted that you're progressing in your fusion fresco method I taught you so long ago."

"Actually, I'm experimenting with my own style at the moment."

Petrie cocked his head to the side. "Well, stop it! I didn't pay good money on those art supplies to have you try and find your own style!"

Ben hung his head. "Yes, sir."

Petrie moved over to Ben, tracing his hand just millimeter's from Ben's face. "Please don't be sad or cross, Benjamin. It's just a strain taking care of you. That poor blood disease that took your parents and left me as your ward. They are closer each day to finding a cure."

Ben sighed. "Then I could see elsewhere in the world."

Petrie took a step back toward the packages. "I don't understand this fascination with the world you have. I live in the world. Trust me that this tower is a haven, a heaven, against that world."

Ben shrugged. "As you say. Have you brought me my supplies?"

Petrie nodded, as he handed Ben packages to open. "My yes! Medicines, coffee supplies, and something special."

Ben unwrapped the embossed leather-bound Bible. "Oh."

"Well, don't say that. This Bible is your manual for accepting your affliction and begging for your family's forgiveness. It is solace so close to death's door and yet so near to life. They don't print those for just anyone, Benjamin."

Benjamin looked at the cover with a forced, bitter smile while flipping through the first few pages. "Then I am most grateful."

This delighted Petrie. "Good! Now are you sure you are alright, Benjamin?"

Ben slumped down in a chair as Petrie headed for the door. "I'm just going to sit here for awhile and rest."

Petrie nodded. "That would be for the best, Benjamin. Remember, I only have your best interests at heart."

Michael scrambled out from beneath the bed. Ben looked very old and shriveled next to his present. Michael walked over slowly, touching his arm again. "Ben? Are you alright?"

"You should go before they send a search party."

"Not like this. Those things he said were..."

Ben blinked. "True. Awful and tactless, but true."

Michael shook his head. "Don't do that to yourself."

Ben turned. "There is no hope for me. Just go!"

Michael sighed. "I do need to leave because I will respect your privacy and not let them come hunting for me. But this is not the last time you will see me."

"Sure." Ben spoke in a meek voice.

"I mean it!"

Ben snarled, looking at the book. "Will you just go?"

Michael left, but was as ever true to his word, disappearing into the forest without reason and making sure that not even his brother could follow. He was lost the first day, but often after that found his own path with swift feet. They would talk for hours, forgetting disease or princely status. They would watch the sunset and it took a few month, but they realized that each was becoming the other's world.

Ben knew the moment that he began to hold Michael in his arms and Michael the same when he allowed himself to be held. On those rare occasions that Michael could talk Ben into coming down the steps and feeling the grass of the earth, his horse would trod by and allow Ben to pet him. He would snort softly in approval and Ben would breathe the air deeply. He could feel the changes inside himself as well. He found himself being stronger, waiting for that moment when Michael would climb the rope of his bedsheets up toward the top of the tower towards the man who was slowly evolving from stranger to lover.

It was four months to the day when Petrie discovered them one careless afternoon. He vaulted up the stairs as normal, but neither man could hear him save for their own laughter.

Petrie burst in, enraged. "What devilry is this?"

Ben froze to his chair while Michael rose to defend the man he loved. "This is freedom. By order of the prince of Sylvania, you will release him."

"He is my ward. He is a danger and you have stepped into a fools trap."

"I disagree." Brian's voice crept up behind the set jaw of Petrie. Petrie felt the slice of the sword before he felt himself tumble back down each stair of the tower. Brian swaggered in and surveyed the room. "Not bad digs, if I do say so myself. A little dated, but you're how old then?"

Michael spoke first. "You followed me."

Brian nodded, surprised at the statement. "Of course, I did. You're my brother." He proceeded to walk out towards Ben and extend his hand. "What? Evil guy never taught you manners?"

"I'm ill."

Brian shrugged. "We're all ill in some way. Get over yourself. If you're gonna live at the castle..."

Ben stood. "If I'm going to what now?"

Brian chuckled, turning to Michael. "You've been rearranging the guest room next to yours and knocking down walls and you didn't even bother to tell him?"

Michael filled the space in front of Ben. "I wanted it to be a surprise."

"You knew you were going to kill Petrie?"

Michael shook his head. "Call it a fringe benefit."

Ben stammered again. "But he was my ward and doctor. He took care of me. He was the only family I had."

Brian plucked an apple from the bowl of fruit. "We're royalty! We'll take care of you!"

"Why couldn't I be your family?"

Ben looked down into Michael's sincere and soft eyes. "You couldn't mean that."

Brian vouched for Michael. "He does. He really does. He's been saying nothing about this but to his horse for the past two weeks. I should know. I was eavesdropping."

Michael spoke to Brian while looking at Ben. "Thanks for your help."

"I could die."

Ben saw resolve in Michael's eyes. "I know. But life isn't worth risking without the risk. I need you to come back with me into the world because I'm not sure I could face it without you."

So it was, in the sight of their reviving sunset and gentle wind in the now abandoned tallest hidden tower in the land that Prince Michael and Prisoner Ben kissed for the first time with nothing and yet everything to lose.


End file.
